


Better Than a Dream Part One (Week 14)

by TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite



Series: Spn Hiatus Writing Challenge [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Self-Harm, Smut, depressed!reader, unprotected vaginal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:57:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8057290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite/pseuds/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite
Summary: “This is ten times worse”
+
“Imagine TFW finding you after you’ve been captured by a creature you were all hunting”
+
“Imagine Sam being in love with you but you’re depressed and don’t notice”





	Better Than a Dream Part One (Week 14)

Warm.

That’s the first thing you notice when you wake up. The last thing you remember is entering a warehouse in search of the djinn you were helping the Winchesters hunt.

Well, shit.

Your eyes snap open and you try to roll out of the bed you’re lying in, but a strong arm around your waist keeps you pinned.

“Y/N?”

You turn to find sleepy hazel eyes gazing up at you. Sam tightens his grip on your waist and pulls you against his bare chest.

“You okay, babe?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you quickly lie. “Just gotta pee.”

“Mmm.” He releases you reluctantly. “Come right back, okay?”

“Okay.”

Quickly glancing around the room, you spot the bathroom door and duck inside, shutting the door behind you. You brace yourself against the counter and meet your own frantic gaze in the mirror. You realize you’re dressed in your favorite pajamas- a tank top and polka-dot shorts.

The bathroom is clean and pleasant, and everything you wanted your bathroom to look like when you were younger. Fluffy towels hang on the rack and there’s a blue toothbrush next to your red one in a cup by the sink. You take deeps breaths, use the toilet, and wash your hands. The soap smells like peaches.

When you’re feeling a little calmer, you open the door. Sam is lying in bed looking, looking like an angel of some kind. He has one arm stretched over his head and the covers have slipped down to his waist, showing off his naked torso.

“Like what you see?” he says with a chuckle when he notices you staring.

You nod, too afraid to speak.

Sam smiles and beckons you closer. When you’re within reach, he tugs you down into his arms and begins pressing soft kisses down your neck.

“Sam,” you gasp, unable to decide if you should pull away or reciprocate. You know it isn’t real, but it feels real and you’ve been wanting this for so long.

“Taste so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your throat. “Could spend hours like this.”

You blush, ducking your head. You can feel his appreciation for you, pressed hard against your thigh. His hands release their grip on your waist to tug at the hem of your tank top. Your whole body tenses involuntarily.

“Is this okay?” Sam asks, looking a little concerned.

“I… I just…” you can’t seem to find a reasonable response.

He brings one hand up to cup your cheek. “Y/N, if this is about your scars, I’ve told you how I feel. You’re my wife. I love every part of you, even your scars.” He gently rolls you so you’re on your back on the bed and he’s hovering over you. “Let me show you?”

You bite your lip. You really need to be finding a way to get out of this dream, but you know you’ll never get a chance to sleep with Sam in real life. But if you sleep with him now, will you want to go back to real life?

“Please, sweetheart?” Sam says, lower lip pouting a little and eyes pleading.

Fuck.

“Okay,” you say quietly, unable to prevent a small grin.

He smiles back and deftly strips you of your clothes, kicking off his boxers somewhere along the way. You feel self-conscious with your nudity and start to cover yourself with your hands, but Sam gently catches them in his own.

“I want to see you,” he says quietly. “My beautiful wife.”

Sam leans down and begins softly kissing the scars across your stomach. His hands stroke over your skin, expertly searching out all your most sensitive places. Thick fingers part your folds, coating themselves in your increasing wetness. You’re torn between focusing on Sam’s mouth as it finds one of your nipples and the finger pushing inside.

“Sam,” you whine, body arching against him.

He smirks around your nipple, free hand toying with the other one. “So gorgeous, Y/N. I love seeing you like this.”

You can feel your face heating up. Hearing Sam talk about you like that is simultaneously pleasing and embarrassing.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he asks, pressing a second finger into you. Sam’s hands are magical, you’re pretty sure.

Of course he’s going to be perfect at sex, though. This is a dream based off your biggest wishes.

“Your… your mouth,” you manage. “Please, Sam.”

“Anything for you,” he promises, already working his way downward.

When his mouth lands on your clit, it pulls you right over the edge. You cry out and your hands fly down to grip his hair. He grunts, the vibrations even more intense in the aftermath of your first orgasm.

“Sorry,” you gasp, releasing his hair.

“Why are you apologizing?” Sam asks, lifting his head to give you a confused look. “You know how much I like that.”

“I… I was worried I pulled too hard,” you lie.

He chuckles and shakes his head before diving in again. His fingers spread, scissoring you open until he can fit his tongue between them. You whine and grab at his hair again. If his hands are magical, you’re not sure what word to use to describe his mouth beyond sinful. You want to keep him between your thighs forever.

Sam makes you cum again before you start begging.

“Sam, Sam, fuck me,” you plead, tugging at his hair. “Please, I need you cock…”

He hums against your pussy, making you whimper, before sitting up. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he says, positioning himself over you again and hooking your legs over his arms. “I’ll take care of you.”

The head of his cock bumps against your pussy and part of you begins to wonder if this is actually a good idea, seeing as by the feel of things Sam is definitely proportionate. Fuck, is he going to fit? He seems pretty confident that he will, seeing as he’s starting to push in.

Fuck.

Well if that’s not the best feeling ever.

You’ve never been stretched this wide before and you’ve always thought it must really hurt. It does hurt, but not as much as you expected. Mostly it just feels really good. Sam’s careful to not push too hard too fast, working you open with little rolls of his hips. Apparently he’s really good at this. Granted, he is a dream-come-true version of Sam. He has to be good at this.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks when he’s about halfway in, his palm rubbing soothing circles on your pelvis.

“Don’t stop,” is all you can say in response as your hands grasp desperately at his shoulders.

Sam doesn’t stop. He continues his steady pace until suddenly his hips are pressed against the back of your thighs and you realize he’s all the way inside you. You’ve never been so full in your life and you’re pretty sure that whenever you figure out how to wake-up from this dream you’re not going to be able to go back to regular sex. Dream-Sam sex is just too good.

“You did it,” he says with a grin, letting go of your thighs so he can put his elbows on either side of your head. “That still never ceases to amaze me. Fuck, Y/N. How are you so perfect?”

The only sound you can make is a high-pitched whine, eyes squeezing shut as his cock shifts inside you.

“You want me to move, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh.” You nod frantically.

“Alright.”

Sam starts slow, just letting you get used to him at first, but when you hook your legs around his waist and dig your heels into his ass, he picks up the pace.

You’re pretty sure you’ve died and gone to heaven, because this is amazing. Sam knows how to hit every good spot inside you, and when he arches his back so he can suck on your nipples again, any part of you that was against this quickly changes its mind.

You can’t seem to stop making noise, a mix of obscenities, begging, and meaningless sounds. Sam is pretty quiet, any sounds he makes muffled by your skin. You get louder when his hand slips between your bodies to rub circles on your clit. Between that and the massive cock splitting you open, you cum again pretty quickly. Sam fucks you through it, drawing the orgasm out for as long as possible.

As the aftershocks fade, you feel Sam’s hips begin to stutter. His steady rhythm falters a little, and then suddenly he thrusts in deep with a groan. You’ve never had unprotected sex before and it’s only now that you realize he never put a condom on, as his cock jerks and spills inside you, but you can’t bring yourself to complain. Obviously you’re married to him in this dream and besides, it feels really good.

Sam relaxes on top of you, letting his head fall forward onto your shoulder. “Fuck,” he gasps. Then, before you can respond, “Do you think it’ll take this time?”

Take? Does he mean… get you pregnant? You can’t think of what else he could possibly be talking about, so you pet his hair and say, “If it doesn’t, we’ll just have to try again until it does.”

He laughs softly. “I love you.”

Oh shit, there they are. The magic words. You’re definitely screwed now. “I love you, too.”

First thing you’ve said so far that hasn’t been a lie.

* * *

Life married to Sam is wonderful. Of course.

Judging by the scrapbooks you find on the bookshelf in the living room of your little one-bedroom apartment, you and Sam fell in love, quit hunting, and got married. Sam went back to school under an alias, finished his degree, and got a nice job at a local law firm. You provide research assistance and stuff like that for hunters, like Dean, who stops by regularly to crash on your couch and is hunting with Cas.

Everything about this life is so much happier than your real life. You find medication in the bathroom, so clearly you still struggle with depression, but according to the journal you find in your underwear drawer, you’ve really gotten a handle on since you got together with Sam. Part of you wonders is Real-Sam would be able to help you as much as Dream-Sam does.

You know you have to find a way out, but there’s not much to go off of. You can’t find anything in any of the lore about Djinns that even hints at how to escape the dream and every time you bring it up to Dean, the only person you know who escaped the dream on his own, something interrupts your conversation.

Things change one night when Sam works late and you find yourself getting ready for bed alone. As you lie in bed, you try to remember what Dean told you about his time in the dream a Djinn concocted for him years ago. He doesn’t like to talk about it much- Sam says the dream really hit home for him- and you tried not to press, but you’re pretty sure he told you how he escaped. You just can’t seem to remember.

Then it hits you.

* * *

Everything you need is in a lockbox under the bed. You have a key, thank goodness. You’ve never been as good as Sam or Dean at picking locks.

Inside the box are the majority of the weapons you and Sam took with you when you retired. The ones missing either haven’t survived the years or are hidden strategically around the house. But the one you want is right here in this box.

The grip feels exactly the same in your hand as always- of course it does, this is a dream- when you take your Sig Sauer 1911 MAX out of the box. You and Sam clean these guns regularly, so each one is still in top condition.

You expertly check the gun over and load it. You have to work fast. Sam’s going to be home soon and you know he’ll try to stop you, but you have to get out of this dream before it’s too late.

You see Sam enter the bedroom less than a second before you put a bullet in your brain.

* * *

“Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me?”

You groan, turning your face toward the familiar voice.

“Guys, she’s waking up?”

You push your eyes open to see Sam’s face close to yours. He smiles down at you, though he looks really worried.

“Y/N!” Dean says, appearing beside Sam. “Man, am I glad to see you. How’re you feeling?”

“I have the worst headache ever,” you grumble, shutting your eyes when he swings his flashlight beam around. “What happened?”

“You were captured by the djinn,” Sam explains, helping you sit up more, but keeping his arms around you. “How’d you wake up?”

“Killed myself in the dream,” you tell him. “I figured if it worked for Dean, it would work for me.”

Cas appears then, silver blade in one hand. “It is good to see you awake,” he says solemnly, crouching so he’s at your level and petting your hair with a gentle hand. He’s still too weak to do much healing, but you feel a bit better.

You smile. “Thanks, Cas. Can we go back to the motel now? I need a shower and food.”

“Of course,” Sam says, hurrying to help you stand. You’re a little unsteady on your feet, though, and have to lean on him. “Come on, the car’s just out back. Dean, is it okay if I just take her now and you come along with Cas after you finish cleaning up?”

“Sure.” Dean tosses the keys to his brother, who catches them easily.

“Ready to go?” Sam asks you.

You nod and let him lead the way. You’re already feeling kind of useless. First you get captured by the djinn, and now you’re too weak to be helpful in any way.

“In you go,” Sam says, laying a big hand on your head so you don’t hit it when you get into the passenger seat of the Impala. You don’t usually sit up here, so it’s strange, but also kind of nice.

“Shower or food first?”  he asks as he pulls out onto the road.

“Shower, then food,” you decide.

“Alright. I can go grab you something while you shower, if you want. Is there something specific you want me to get?”

“A burger and fries, and a really big coke,” you tell him.

Sam laughs. “I can do that.”

The motel isn’t too far from the warehouse the djinn was hiding out in. Sam drops you off and you jump right in the shower. You have to wash all the filth of the warehouse and the monster off your skin. You’re still a little unsteady, but the hot water works wonders and you feel a hundred times better than before when you get out.

Sam’s setting out your food on the motel table when you exit the bathroom. His smiles when he sees you.

“Feeling better?” he asks, taking the seat across from you and pulling a to-go salad from the bag.

“Much, thank you.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Your breath catches in your throat and you pause in the unwrapping of your burger. “No, not really,” you finally say, refusing to look him in the eye.

Sam reaches across the table to gently brush his fingers against the back of your hand. “Okay. If you ever decide you want to talk, though, I’m more than happy to listen.”

You force a smile. “Thanks, Sam.”

* * *

You don’t talk about the dream or what happened with the djinn. The boys seem to realize you need your space, because they back off on that front. You keep hunting, even though some days you find yourself longing for the dream world and the life of a retired hunter.

One morning you wake up feeling like shit. You know immediately what’s wrong. Medication can only do so much when someone’s suffering the aftermath of a djinn-induced dream and killing herself in said dream.

You pull the covers up to your chin, unwilling to do any more than that.

Hours later, Dean pokes his head into the room. He’s carrying two steaming mugs.

“Hey, you,” he says. “How’re you feeling.”

“Awful,” you mumble, blinking back tears. You can smell the hot chocolate.

“First hunt with us awful?”

“This is ten times worse.”

He nods, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Well, it’s been building for a while. Will you drink this for me?” he offers you one of the mugs. “You’ll have to sit up.”

You shift around so you can sit against the headboard, tugging the blankets along with you. Once you’re settled, Dean gives you the mug. It’s warm in your hands and you can tell he put just the right amount of marshmallows in it. Dean may act tough, but he’s really a teddy bear and he cares a lot.

“Where’re Sam and Cas?” you ask, blowing gently across the surface of the liquid.

“They to check out a hunt. It’s a minor one, so I figured I’d stay here with you.” Dean grins over his cup. “We can mess with Sam’s stuff.”

“No, that’s rude,” you scold. “Not that I don’t mind staying here, but why did you stay and not Cas or just me?”

“Because I want to talk to you,” Dean says, suddenly serious. “About what happened with the djinn.”

“Dean-”

“I know what djinns do, Y/N. I’ve gone through it. I’m the only person in this bunker who can even come close to understanding what you’re feeling. Please let me help you.”

His green eyes are locked on you, full of concern. He’s lowered his mug, though both his hands are still wrapped around it.

You nod, staring down into your cup. It’s silent in the room for a long time before you can manage to say, “I was married to Sam.”

Dean inhales sharply and his hand moves to clasp yours. “Tell me what happened.”

You do. It takes a while because you have to keep stopping for deep breaths to keep yourself from crying, but you manage to tell him everything except the details of the amazing sex you had. He listens intently, thumb rubbing across the back of your hand soothingly. When you finish, he doesn’t respond right away.

“Y/N,” he says quietly. “I think you need to tell Sam.”

“No,” you protest. “Dean, I can’t.”

“You can.”

“No, you don’t understand. He’ll hate me. It’ll ruin everything.” You struggle to take steady breaths, gripping is hand tight. “Dean, I can’t.”

The older Winchester sets his hot chocolate on your nightstand and takes your face in his hands. “Y/N. You need to tell him. This is Sam. He won’t hate you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. Dean sighs and sits back.

“Look, just think about it, okay?”

Before you can respond, he grabs his hot chocolate and leaves you alone.


End file.
